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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572303">The Richest Rivalry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_Ant/pseuds/Mighty_Ant'>Mighty_Ant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, I want these old men to be happy so sue me, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:40:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_Ant/pseuds/Mighty_Ant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“As I recall, you kissed me first.”</p><p>“Aye, well,” Flintheart says, sputtering. “That was just a trial kiss!”</p><p>“A trial kiss?” Scrooge repeats dryly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Flintheart Glomgold &amp; Scrooge McDuck, Flintheart Glomgold/Scrooge McDuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>164</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Richest Rivalry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Wait,” Flintheart whispers, Scrooge’s beak centimeters from his own. “Is this a trick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrooge stops. He leans back, a divot forming between his brows. Flintheart still has a hand pressed to Scrooge’s chest, almost directly over his heart, where it trembles faintly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A trick?” Scrooge repeats, his voice soft in the darkness. He reaches up to hold Flintheart’s hand against his chest. They’re sitting on one of the lounge chairs on his back patio, the blue pool lights casting a haunting glow. The houseboat bobs dark and empty on the water, and behind them the mansion looms with few lit windows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, a trick,” Flintheart retorts. He snatches his hand back, his gaze darting all over the backyard, enshrouded by night. His voice trembles.  “You-you may have lured me here to get back at me for all the attempts on your life. And your kin, they-they must be in on it, too. Are they hiding on the boat? Or in the bushes, just waiting to jump out with confetti cannons while you all laugh in my face and </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody </span>
  </em>
  <span>laughs at Flintheart Glomgold!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He begins to stand at the tail end of his pontificating, but Scrooge gets a firm grip of his coat lapels and yanks him back down onto the chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give you points for creativity,” he says dryly. Scrooge loosens his grip on Flintheart’s coat, smoothing his hands down Flintheart’s chest to remove any wrinkles. He hears Flintheart’s throat click sharply at the motion, elects not to draw attention to it at the moment. When Scrooge lifts his head to meet Flintheart’s gaze again, his expression has softened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “However, Flinty, you’re insinuating that these last four months of reconciliation, civil conversation, dates, awkward photos in the press and more awkward questions from my family have all been part of some elaborate scheme to get back at you for a rivalry we both had an equal hand in for the last thirty years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh,” Flintheart replies, eyes jumping from Scrooge’s face to his hands, which haven’t left Flintheart’s chest. His own hands tremble at his sides in tightly enclosed fists. “Y...yes?” he answers hesitantly, his voice breaking over the word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Flintheart,” Scrooge answers, leaning forward. He doesn’t try to kiss him again, but he’s loath to allow the space between them go cold. “There’s no scheme this time. No trick. The kids are at the movies and Beakley is the only person inside the mansion; she’s certainly not watching us, I can promise you that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches down and takes Flintheart’s hands in his own, cradling them between their chests. “It’s just you and me here, Flinty. Taking this step together, if that’s what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flintheart’s hands are broader than his own, like the strong line of his shoulders he no longer tries to hide beneath the full facade of Flintheart Glomgold, the Most Scottish. He’s not Duke Baloney, and perhaps never will be again, but his beard is real, coarse black with streaks of gray, and the Scottish accent tends to slip more often than not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Flintheart falters, looking lost. Scrooge’s heart twists sharply at the sight, and even more so as Flintheart loosens his grip, slipping his hands out of Scrooge’s. His chest fills slowly with leaden dread at the thought of Flintheart rising and leaving his side for good. As a result, he doesn’t process the determination settling on Flintheart’s brow until he’s reached out and grabbed two fistfuls of Scrooge’s coat, yanking him forward into the bare inches of space between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their beaks meet first with near bruising force due to the speed of their collision. Flintheart trembles all over, as though expecting rejection, until Scrooge clutches at his arms, holding him in place and disabusing him of that notion. From there the kiss gentles, and Flintheart nearly melts against him, exhaling sharp and shaky through his nose. Scrooge’s sharp mind goes hazy, and he threads his fingers through Flintheart’s beard, tangling and gently in the strands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They part with a gasp, but don’t travel far from each other. Flintheart is giving him a bit of a deer in headlights look that nearly makes Scrooge laugh before he thinks better of it, knowing it would likely be misinterpreted. He tugs gently on Flintheart’s beard, smiling wryly in the silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me see, no kids hiding in the bushes,” he says lightly, making a show of glancing around, “no confetti cannons. The sky hasn’t fallen. A bit anticlimactic wouldn’t you say, Flinty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mock me, McDuck,” Flintheart retorts, but a crooked smile is working its way onto his beak. “This could just be a prelude to your scheme; lulling me into a false sense of security with subpar kissing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrooge tugs a little harder on his beard. “As I recall, you kissed me first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, well,” Flintheart says, sputtering. “That was just a trial kiss!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A trial kiss?” Scrooge repeats dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Flintheart announces with growing confidence. “To ensure this wasn’t an underhanded trick! Prepare yourself for a real kiss!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, aye?” Scrooge replies archly. “Well I’m waiting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-right,” he says, squeezing Scrooge’s waist. “One kiss, coming up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He doesn’t need further prompting before drawing them together once more, moving at a pace so gentle it steals Scrooge’s breath before Flintheart’s kiss does. Not limited to the sometimes-violent nature of their former rivalry, moments of softness have been rare in Scrooge’s long life. The year that his family's been back in his life has gradually filled the craters in his heart that a decade of solitude left behind. That love is joined by Flintheart cradling the back of his head, his fingers weaving through the feathers on his cheek with gentle care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their kiss, when their mouths finally meet, is nearly chaste. But it’s the implicit promise within it that sets Scrooge’s stomach fluttering like he’s a lad of twenty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Flintheart says, only stumbling over his words a little.  “A real kiss! What do you have to say about that, Scroogie?” He looks proud, and unlike when it’s coupled with a declaration of hatred, Scrooge finds that under these circumstances it rather suits him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I say, do you still believe this is a trick?” Scrooge asks, mostly teasing, but also not at all. He wants a real relationship with Flintheart beyond three decades of constant one-upmanship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flintheart makes a pensive face, and Scrooge’s worries ease. “I don’t know,” he replies, “I may need more convincing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy to oblige,” Scrooge says, chuckling, as he draws Flintheart into his arms for the first time. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
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